


Like Rabbits

by easystreets



Category: House M.D.
Genre: ADHD Character, ADHD!Kutner, M/M, Would You Rather, magic shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easystreets/pseuds/easystreets
Summary: Kutner, Cole, and the magic show. Featuring: Would You Rather, character growth, and sex in the back of a mini-van.
Relationships: Greg House & Lawrence Kutner, Jeffrey Cole/Lawrence Kutner, Lawrence Kutner & Remy "Thirteen" Hadley, implied Amber/Thirteen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	Like Rabbits

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is entirely and wholly based off of the first part of "You Don't Want To Know".

The magic show is a bust. The act barely begins before the magician croaks, and Kutner gets the guy’s blood all over his favourite sweater.

Dinner before, though, is great.

“I never buy takeout,” Cole admits. His son is squirming on his lap. Somehow, Cole manages to hold the boy-- Benjamin, but Cole calls him Benny-- and stab at his lemon chicken with vigor. “Good choice.”

Kutner’s own fridge is wallpapered in takeout menus and Pizza Hut coupons. He’s never held a baby, aside from pediatric rotations in med school. “I don’t cook,” he admits. Cole laughs at that, and it’s a good feeling, he thinks. Sort of heady, like that time his older brother let him hit a joint, or, like last Tuesday, when he accidentally double-dosed his ADHD meds. He likes it.

Their knees bump together during the meal. Cole smirks. The peonies Kutner brought him bob back and forth in their vase when Cole nudges him under the table.

Benjamin starts to cry as they finish eating, and Cole leaves to tuck him in for the night so that the babysitter doesn’t have to. Kutner takes the opportunity to clean up, and to look around. It’s not snooping, it’s just… interesting to see how other people live.

There’s a pair of running shoes tucked neatly under a bench: Cole must like to exercise. A quick peek in the fridge as he puts away leftovers reveals that Cole owns one of those weird water filter thingys and likes purple cabbage. Kutner reviews the DVD shelf in his living room, and is pleased to find _Die Hard_ and all three of the _Karate Kid_ movies nested neatly in it.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” Cole says, once the baby is finally asleep. For a moment, Kutner allows his eyes to fixate on Cole: how his button-up shirt is half-tucked into the dress pants he’s still got on from work; the warm darkness of his skin; the brightness of his eyes. “The babysitter will be a minute. Sorry.” Cole apologizes.

“No problem,” Kutner says, snapping out of it. He smiles at Cole and steps closer to him, mostly because it feels right.

(Kutner likes new. Kutner lives his life governed by doing what feels right, what catches his breath in his throat and what freezes him with wonder. Cole feels right.)

“Let me fix your shirt,” Cole says, and before Kutner can be ridiculously embarrassed for having something wrong with it, Cole’s eyes are looking up at him, and well, Kutner’s never been very good at impulse control.

He kisses him, plain and simple. Cole kisses back. He grabs at Kutner blindly, and really, Kutner has no idea what he’s doing either, but it feels good-- _really_ good-- so he figures Cole must have it figured out. Yeah, he likes guys, and Kutner is incredibly comfortable with being gay, but between med school and well, being a nerd, he’s never had an oppurtunity to put it into praxis.

Praxis proves to be great. Cole pushes him onto the couch, and peels Kutner’s t-shirt off. He feels awkwardly exposed, so when Cole leans in for a kiss, Kutner takes the opportunity to unbutton Cole’s button-up.

“I thought you were a Mormon,” Kutner says, breathless. Cole’s already begun to peel his jeans off, and it’s probably the best feeling he’s ever felt. “Isn’t this against the rules?”

Cole stops, and House is right: Kutner never knows when to shut up. “Jesus forgives,” Cole says, and then he begins to unbutton his own pants.

The doorbell rings-- the babysitter-- and Kutner swears. He pulls his jeans up grumpily. Kendra, the college student from Cole’s church, may possibly be the biggest buzzkill ever.

Thankfully, they finish things in the car. Cole is diligent like that.

Cole takes charge, sitting on Kutner’s lap in the backseat. Somehow, Kutner thinks, it’s not uncomfortably weird. Cole’s weight on his lap is actually amazing, and when he begins to rock back and forth, it gets even better.

“Stop,” Kutner says, when he’s close. Cole looks at him: at his rosy cheeks, at his long eyelashes, at the slight bags under his eyes. “I’m going to--” he stumbles.

“So?” Cole says, pulling Kutner’s jeans off of him. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Yeah, but…” Cole thumbs him through his Pac-Man boxers and he forgets how to speak. “Oh, God, that’s good.”

He comes a minute later, and does his best to not get it all over Cole’s mini-van. Cole helps him gallantly in the effort, and Kutner is never, _ever_ going to forget this.

“Let me return the favour,” he says to Cole, who is definitely packing.

Kutner’s never done anything of this sort before, and so Cole has to guide him.

“Quick learner,” Cole hums, when Kutner finally falls into a rhythm. “If the whole being a doctor thing doesn’t work out, you should definitely consider this for a living.”

Kutner smirks. “Is this just an elaborate plan to get me to quit?”

He decides to try his mouth instead of his hands. Cole’s gasp proves he’s doing something right.

“Don’t stop--” Cole says, his head falling back against the seat. His hands find his way to Kutner’s hair. “ _Please_.”

Kutner stops, just to admire his hard work. Cole groans. It’s not a bad sound.

“Jesus Chirst,” Cole sighs, when he finally resumes. If only House could see him now. The destruction of Jeffery Cole is a beautiful thing.

Cole comes with Kutner’s name in his mouth. They’re fifteen minutes late to the magician’s show. Kutner can’t bring himself to care.

* * *

“So, you and Cole, huh?” Thirteen says, once they leave the patient’s room.

Kutner tries very hard not to blush. He tries very hard not to think about the gentle wideness of Cole’s smile when Kutner presented him with a bouquet of his neighbor’s peonies. He tries very hard to not think about Cole’s legs brushing against his during differentials and dinner, the softness of his fingers against Kutner’s palm as he handed him a pen.

“Earth to Kutner,” Thirteen elbows him in the side, grinning wildly. When he sees his reflection in the patient’s window, his cheeks are a rosy brown. Shit.

“We’re not a thing,” Kutner says, because they so aren't: Cole’s weird religion probably forbids it, and Kutner’s never really gone steady with someone before, aside from a few perfunctory dates in high school. “We just…”

Get along well? Screw in the backseat of his car? Make out on Cole’s couch?

“Sure.” Thirteen smirks, like she totally isn’t getting it on with Amber. Yeah. Kutner has eyes, and more importantly, accidentally walked in on them having sex in the janitor’s closet. “What are your wedding colours?” she asks. "Can I bring a plus one?"

That earns her a shove back. “I just like him,” Kutner finally says.

“I’m happy for you.” Thirteen declares, her voice as smooth as it is magnanimous.

Kutner is happy for himself too.

* * *

“I nominate Kutner,” Cole says, and Kutner’s world goes silent. 

He has to be kidding. Kutner shakes his head. Tries and does his best to ignore all the eyes trained on him, House included. It has to be some sort of twisted joke, because Cole likes Kutner. Cole has to like Kutner, see, because not many people do. Cole has to like Kutner because Kutner likes Cole a lot. 

“Your little lovenugget,” House says, with the slightest twinge of surprise-- or Kutner thinks he says, because he can barely hear. His eyes are burning. Kutner swallows, hard. Cole eventually gets fired, he leaves with his head held high; House hobbles out of the room; the lights flicker off.

Kutner shakes his head. Something short of a sigh comes out of Kutner’s throat. Cole has to come back. House has un-fired people before. Even as he thinks it, Kutner knows it’s futile. Cole doesn’t like him. Or rather, Cole liked him until he couldn’t get him ahead. Cole is gone now.

He leaves the room last. Cole left his favourite pen behind in his hurry, and Kutner slips it in his front pocket: at least he has something to remember him by.

* * *

“Would you rather go on a date with Foreman, or… the blonde guy?”

“Chase,” Thirteen provides. She steals one of Kutner’s carrots off his plate. “You?”

“I like his accent,” Kutner shrugs. It’s been three weeks since Cole tried to get him fired. He feels mildly better. Less pissed off, at least. “So yeah, probably Chase.”

Thirteen hums. “House or Cuddy?”

“Neither.” Kutner decides. “Cuddy would probably lecture me about clinic duty, and House--”

House picks up a carrot off of Kutner’s tray and crunches it loudly in his ear. “House would?”

“We’re playing Would You Rather,” Thirteen brazenly explains, “do you want to join us?”

House frowns at the clock. “ _Days Of Our Lives_ isn’t on until one. Sure.” He crouches himself onto the cafeteria bench.

“Would you rather screw… Amber or that annoying vet?” House tries. He’s pulled Kutner’s tray towards him. Any hope of Kutner ever being able to eat his own lunch has utterly diminished.

“The vet,” Thirteen says, and Kutner can hear the tiny lie in her voice when she says it; see the lie when she takes a long sip of coffee and stares up at the ceiling.

“Amber’d probably bite my dick off,” Kutner says. “I’m going to have to go with the vet.”

“Wise choice,” House says, and, is that Kutner’s soda he’s drinking from? “The vet has unfettered access to ketamine.” House opens his mouth to pop a vicodin, and the soda floating around in his mouth is unmistakably orange Fanta. “Amber,” he says, his eyes brilliantly wide, “has a steak knife under her bed.”

“Alright,” Thirteen says, probably eager to change the subject from Amber. “Wilson or Cuddy?”

Her words drop like an atom bomb. House’s lips flatten. Kutner’s met Dr. Wilson twice, and even he knows how painfully in the closet the poor guy is. House, while still in Narnia, totally looks at Wilson in a way that isn’t straight.

“Wilson,” Kutner tries, because he’d rather come out to House than have House come out for him. And Wilson is pretty hot, in a dorky way.

“That’s funny,” House says, after a brief period of silence, “I don’t remember hiring directly from a GSA. Both of you?” He wipes his face with Kutner’s napkin. “For the record, I prefer the female persuasion.” He is so a liar, but Kutner enjoys being gainfully employed too much to be a contrarian. Even if House’s salary for the stupid game had paid so little he had been forced to cancel his Netflix subscription. “Cuddy.”

“Cuddy.” Thirteen affirms, nodding her head. House grins like he’s won the lottery.

“Chase or Cameron?” House asks. “The dumb blond, or the dumb _blonde_?”

“Chase,” Kutner says, at the same time Thirteen says “Cameron.”

“Wow.” House feigns shock. “There really is no right answer.”

“Foreman or... Chase?” Kutner attempts.

“I’d do Taub before Foreman.” Thirteen says. “Boreman would tie me up and read _The Lancet_ to me.”

“You know what they say,” House leans across the table, “a lady in the streets, or… differential diagnosis, and a freak in the sheets. Speaking of which, did you enjoy that magic show with Cole?”

Kutner wills himself to not recall the karate moves he learned from that self-defence class Mom had made him take in high school. He wills himself to not wonder if Cole thinks about him too, sometimes, when he’s in the video game section of Blockbuster, or has to take his son to the zoo alone. He wonders if Cole still looks for his favourite pen.

(In case you forgot: Kutner likes living in the moment. Kutner likes saying what he thinks. Kutner has never been very good at shutting up.)

“It was awesome,” he finally says. “And then it was over.”

House stares at him with his closest approximation of respect. “ _Nice_.”

“Yeah,” Thirteen says, mildly shocked. “Nice.”

House leaves at ten to one, and Kutner busses their trays.

A lab tech accidentally colides into him while he’s dumping what’s left of his Pop Tart in the garbage. There’s coffee all over his lab coat.

“I’m so sorry,” says the tech-- Kutner’s begged him for immediate labs more times than he can count--, “you’re Dr. Kutner, right? I’m Louis.”

“Louis,” Kutner says slowly, “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” It might be dorky, but it works. Louis pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Quixote.” Louis grins. “Let me grab your number. I’d like to buy you a coffee sometime.”

Kutner smiles back. He pulls Cole’s pen out of his pocket, and neatly writes his number. This could be the start of something. Or it couldn’t. But what matters is potential.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment if you enjoyed it.


End file.
